


i don't want to be alone (does that scare you?)

by thethingaboutashis



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M, Luke Hemmings in Love, Luke just wants love, M/M, Sudden love, Unexpected friendships, and he literally just wants someone to die for, ash and cal no plans (just vibez), fashion designer luke hemmings, it's been a long day and I need to write, kind of a song fic, loosely, luke is me, this is pretty much how I feel but I am Luke, wedding planner michael clifford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:13:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29599494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethingaboutashis/pseuds/thethingaboutashis
Summary: Luke literally just wants somebody to die for, and he might just find that somebody when he takes a job he absolutely shouldn't.Basically a lot of sad thoughts and hopeful desire for romance in his life.Inspired by To Die For by the lovely Sam Smith.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Original Character(s), Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings
Kudos: 1





	i don't want to be alone (does that scare you?)

It starts with a cream-colored envelope in between all of Luke’s standard white bills.

He lets the rest of his mail drop back to the kitchen island as he holds up the odd envelope, the tips of his fingers gently grasping the corners as if it could explode at any second. He sees the California stamp on the top right before anything else, knows immediately what it is without even having to glance at the sender’s name and address. He opens it with a sigh, carefully tearing open the royal blue wax seal.

**_Bougie_** , Luke thinks. It wouldn’t have been _his_ idea to use these seals, it had to have been his fiancée. He and Luke would’ve called them dramatic, gauche even. He pulls out the invitation. It’s also cream colored with thick, cursive letters, the same hue as the seal.

_**It is with grace and hearts full of love that we cordially invite you** _   
_**to celebrate the union in matrimony of** _   
_**Connor J. Maine and Quinn F. Grant** _

Luke sighs again. “It’s like you’re constantly on the verge of deflating, the way you sigh so deeply,” Connor used to tease him. He would laugh if he could see Luke now. He reads the rest of the information quickly, noting how the reception is also being held at some high-priced salon that feels empty unless it has 1,000 guests in it. One of Luke’s spring runways had been held at that place, and he wonders if Connor mentioned that to Quinn when discussing possible wedding venues. He finishes reading the details and it isn’t until he’s reaching for the envelope to throw it away that he notices another slip of paper in the envelope. He almost throws it out anyway, assuming it’s simply an RSVP card to send back, but something stops him. It doesn’t seem to be made of the same cardstock as the invitation, so he pulls it out. It’s a sheet of paper, no larger than an index card, and it’s handwritten in Connor’s boyish lettering.

_ Luke,  _

_How are you, man? I hope you’re doing well. As you can see, I’m getting married and I wanted to ask you for a huge favor. Would you consider designing Q’s dress? I didn’t even want to ask but she’s so insistent. She heard through the grapevine that you and I grew up together and practically begged me to reach out to you. She’s a big big fan of your work, can’t even blame her! I understand if you’re not willing to, but it would make her so happy. I had to ask. _

_Let me know what you think,  
Con  _

Luke huffs, slamming the letter down on the counter. He knew Connor was an idiot, but he didn’t think he was this shitty. His fiancée heard they grew up together? Did she think they had just been acquaintances, maybe shared a class or two in high school? Luke would be willing to bet money that she had no knowledge of all the nights Luke had spent pounding into Connor. Of course she didn’t, Connor himself always pretended it had never even happened. Luke never understood it, the way Connor could hold him all night for years, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, only to walk by him in the high school and college corridors as if they had never met.

He didn’t realize how much it stung until he had to relive all those times he rushed into an empty classroom to hide his tearful anger whenever someone shouted something rude to him in the hallway and Connor just laughed or looked straight ahead. Luke was glad that relationship was over, he didn’t miss Connor one bit, hadn’t in years.

But it still stung.

He walked to his bedroom, where his dog was snoring quietly on his bed. He laid next to her, watching her lift her head and huff at him, annoyed with him for disturbing her slumber.

“I feel you, P. Trust me.”

* * *

Manhattan was a beautiful place to live, in Luke’s opinion. Most people called it chaotic, taken aback by the rushing sound of angry drivers and the crazy people you often came across on the overcrowded sidewalks, but that was exactly why Luke loved it so much. He swooned at the idea of meeting some new and dazzling in a coffee shop or at a hot dog stand, as corny as that was. He loved that you could see a hundred new people a day and never see them again. It was busy, bright, and chock full of possibility. That’s why he walked everywhere.

The morning after receiving Connor’s letter found Luke on his way to his boutique, baby blue oxfords tapping the pavement rhythmically as he walked briskly down Lexington Avenue. It was one of those mornings that simply felt harder than others. The letter had triggered him the evening before, and he spent the whole night dreaming of all the emotional abuse he had suffered at the hands of his not-so-loving lover. He had woken up too early, hours before he was set to go to work. He stayed in bed, eyes shut to block out the sun slowly creeping in through the floor-to-ceiling windows in his room. That sad energy had carried him through the motions of the morning, dragging him out of bed tiredly and pushing him to eat half a bowl of cereal before pouring the rest down the drain.

You wouldn’t think he was facing an emotional storm inside just by looking at him, though. He was wearing a white suit with a shirt to match his stylish shoes. His platinum blonde curls were pushed back, smooth on top but bunching up perfectly at the nape of his neck. He had applied a thin layer of iridescent glitter under his eyes, partly to cover the bags making him look sleep-deprived, but mostly because he knew it made his eyes shine brighter. And no matter where he went, he went with a smile. Because Luke could be falling apart inside, and he usually was, but no one would ever be able to hold that against him unless he specifically told them he was.


End file.
